Flawed Perfection
by thecornerealm
Summary: The gentle brush of black and white keys, the delicate stroke of string and bow. Even apart, they create resounding solos that both rise and fall and somehow always end up hopelessly entwined in the end. P/E Orchestra!AU


'_Virtuoso Miles Edgeworth has given another flawless performance backed by the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. Last night's concert went without a single hitch and special mention must be made to their conductor…'_

Phoenix folded the clipping gently and slid it into a folder which contained many more of the same. Flicking back through it, he stopped at the first clipping he took and couldn't help but sigh wistfully.

'_Violin Prodigy Returns'_ proclaimed the headline and Phoenix reached out a finger to trace the small but clear picture of Edgeworth standing onstage with his violin on his shoulder. The photo was black and white, but Phoenix knew that if were colored, the eyes staring at him would have been the color of steel, and the other man's hair would be colored a lighter gray. The article was dated almost five years ago to the day.

A sharp knocking on his door threw him out of his musings. Phoenix managed to shut the folder and slide it under a sheaf of papers before a familiar head full of black hair poked in, "Hey, Nick! The concert's about to start without you!"

Phoenix Wright, pianist for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, gave a crooked grin in reply but stood up. "Thanks for coming to call me, Maya."

"Hmph." Maya waited until Phoenix had closed the door to his warm up room before grabbing him and making him stand still.

"Hey! I'm going to be late!" He struggled but to no avail, Maya's grip being strong despite her much smaller stature and figure.

"Your bow-tie is crooked!" She told him with a righteous look as she tweaked the maroon affair until it pleased her, before straightening his dark blue coat and tails out briefly, "And you should have thought of that before you dozed off or whatever you were doing."

Phoenix said nothing, just sighed and resisted the urge to brush a hand through his just-gelled hair. Despite Maya's words, they both knew they would be more than on time enough for warm ups and perhaps even a quick run through.

"Hey Nick?" Maya's voice echoed slightly in the long hallway that lead to the stage.

Phoenix moved his head to one side, questioning. "What is it?" Normally Maya had the habit of talking before she thought so this hesitance made him slightly wary.

She chewed on her lip for a moment, tugging on her knee length black skirt with restless fingers. "Are you nervous? I mean. This is your first solo isn't it?"

He nodded, nervousness returning full time. "Erk. I wish you hadn't brought that up, Maya. That's why I was in the practice room; trying to get rid of them."

Immediately, she looked slightly horrified. "I'm so sorry, Nick!"

He shook his head and gave another of his crooked smiles, voice slightly dry. "It's ok. I would have remembered that fact eventually."

But nevertheless, Phoenix was glad to have arrived at the back of the stage where the backstage crew was still busy rushing about getting the final details ready before the concert hall opened to the public in two hours.

He was immediately greeted by familiar faces, soothing his nervousness slightly. Maya had slipped off to find her older sister, Mia, who was the permanent conductor for the LA Philharmonic, as soon as they had entered.

"Mr. Nick!" Their youngest member hailed him.

"Miss Pearls." Phoenix swept her a small bow which set her giggling, her bright eyes looking up at him.

"You should save that for Miss Maya only. After all, she is your special someone, right?" 10 year old Pearl Fey smiled at him cheerfully, full of childlike innocence, her clarinet held carefully in one hand.

Pearl was Mia and Maya's younger cousin, here for a while whilst she studied for her Juilliard entrance exam. She was often at the concert hall watching and sometimes participating in rehearsals. Her music was phenomenally promising.

"How's study going?" Phoenix changed the topic rather than argue with her obvious misconceptions. No matter how many times he or Maya had tried to tell the youngest Fey that there was nothing in their relationship beyond friendship, Pearl hadn't seemed to take it in.

Her smile grew wider. "My teacher tells me that I'm moving along nicely and I should be able to take the exam early next year."

Phoenix's smile was genuinely delighted. "How wonderful." He thought for a moment, watching her obvious eagerness. "Say, Pearls? Would you like to help me warm up?"

She almost literally jumped at the chance. "Oh yes, Mr. Nick!" Pearl hurried over to the beautiful ebony Steinway concert grand that sat at the very front of the stage.

They spent the next ten minutes lost in the harmonics of their small improvised song. Phoenix felt his tension recede little by little as he played, fingers dancing over the keys, producing pure notes in their wake. Pearl had her eyes half shut, completely focused on the piano's lead.

Mia had stopped behind the two, her smile pleased. Slowly, the soft chatter and tinkle as various musicians played a note or two pre-tuning faded out, leaving only the soft sounds of the piano and the low drawl of the clarinet weaving in and out of their lone melody. She coughed lightly to draw their attention, Phoenix halting almost immediately, dumped back into the real world.

His face flushed red and he reached a hand up to brush through his hair in reflex before Maya hissed at him not to and the hand lowered. "Sorry, Chief."

Pearl bowed slightly in apology before wandering over to the woodwind section to help with tuning as her instrument was already tuned.

Mia grinned and went up to her stand at the front of her orchestra, leaving her baton against her music for the moment. "Concert C please, Phoenix."

The note dutifully rang out loud and clear in the hall. Mia's grin faded down to a small smile, but it was no less pleased. This promised to be a beautiful night.

* * *

><p>The audience was on their feet, a standing ovation. Phoenix stood stunned at this reception, unsure of what to do.<p>

Then Mia was by his side and her words were quietly directed into his ear before she grabbed his hand. "Bow, Phoenix."

He followed her words almost on instinct rather than thought, his mind still full of the flawless melodies and harmonics of Haydn's _Piano Concerto in D Major_. The black-haired man never noticed his hands shake slightly or his dazed expression as their, no his, audience for tonight clapped him off the stage.

Maya popped up behind him backstage while he was on his way back to his room. Her flute was back in its case which swung at her side. "That was incredible, Nick! I knew you could do it!"

Phoenix only laughed sheepishly and allowed his hand to run through his hair for the first time that night, wilting his dead straight spikes slightly. "Thanks, Maya."

Before long, he was surrounded by congratulations from the rest of the orchestra as well as reporters and well wishers from the audience. Phoenix, after the adrenaline had worn off, was never able to remember how exactly he returned to his practice room, let alone how he returned to his small apartment downtown.

All he could remember from that night was the fact that he had just become another step closer to meeting Miles Edgeworth face to face again.

"I'm coming for you Miles." Phoenix mumbled before drifting off to sleep, one hand still clutching the folder filled with newspaper clippings.

* * *

><p>'<em>The Los Angeles Philharmonic produced one of their best concerts to date last night. The rise in talent over the past couple of years definitely showed in a sell out performance to the city of LA at their new home, Walt Disney Concert Hall. Mia Faye once again amazed with her brilliant conducting…'<em>

Miles Edgeworth sat drinking his customary cup of morning tea with his breakfast whilst he read the daily newspaper. Rehearsals for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra didn't start for another hour but as he finished off his tea, Edgeworth reflected that he could get in some private practice if he were early.

Just as he was closing the paper, a familiar name caught his attention.

'…_despite the shining stars of the orchestra, the night really belonged to LA Philharmonic's rising star, pianist Phoenix Wright, protégée of conductor, Mia Faye. This was Mr. Wright's first solo concert and it is easy to say that that his career promises to be bright…'_

Phoenix Wright.

Edgeworth had sat back down firmly in his seat before he realized that he had, eyes a fraction wider than normal. His mind was spinning; he had never expected to hear of that name again. He had hoped that he left his childhood and everything connected to it where it belonged. In the past.

Shaking his head slightly, Edgeworth folded the paper resolutely, shaking himself out of his uncustomary behavior.

There was nothing Wright could do to affect him now. Their friendship was in the past and thus did not bear contemplating about.

Picking up his violin case and going out to his garage, Edgeworth hesitated slightly before dumping the paper into the garbage, seating himself in his brand new, cherry red Mustang. He put his violin carefully on the backseat and started his car, the incident already out of his mind.

* * *

><p>"Edgeworth." His conductor's voice drew him out of his practice. He turned to find the previously closed door of his sound proofed room now slightly open and his conductor leaning against one side of the door frame.<p>

Edgeworth inclined his head slightly to her. "Ms Skye."

Lana Skye, primary conductor for Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra opened the door fully and stepped inside, seating herself in one of the many chairs scattered about this particular practice room. "Your playing is flawless as always."

His lips twitched, almost turning upwards. "Thank you. I do try my best."

She flipped through her sheaf of papers, mostly scores to orchestral pieces, although Edgeworth could spot an official looking sheet here and there.

It was one of those official pieces of paper that she pulled out of her stack, handing it over to him. "You've been requested personally by Redd White. He's been interested in your playing for a while now."

Edgeworth scanned the letter, detailing White's proposal to have him play violin for a piano quintet that he was putting together. His steel gray eyes looked up from the paper, brow slightly furrowed, showing his reluctance.

Lana noticed and hurried on, "It's only temporary and you'll have plenty of time to be back in time for our annual concert. If it's the mid-year event you're concerned about, I'm sure it'll be easy to find a temporary soloist or have a guest in."

She paused, her eyes seemed to ask him to agree. "It's an opportunity that won't come along again, Edgeworth. Mr. White's a highly respected member of society and his sponsorship would make you one of the most sought after violinists in America."

'And the rise in prestige of our Orchestra.' Neither of them said it, but both understood that fact just as well.

Edgeworth shook his head slightly, a tinge of arrogance coloring his tone, ignoring the unsaid words for now. "Am I not already there?" Both of them knew it to be the truth. The name Miles Edgeworth was synonymous with flawless technique and a masterful stage presence. All of which had been hammered into him, sometimes forcibly, by his mentor Manfred Von Karma.

Edgeworth had already turned down many, often ludicrous, offers from international orchestras for his talent. He didn't need the money that they offered; he already had more than enough. Edgeworth's only desire was to hone his technique even further and maybe one day become the man that Von Karma still was.

"…but it's still your decision." Lana finished and Edgeworth realized somewhat belatedly that she had been talking the whole while he was focused internally. However, no hint of that showed in his gaze as he considered, looking back down at the letter. It was true that there was nothing major in the next couple of months with this orchestra, barring that one smaller concert. Something like what Redd White proposed seemed almost interesting in comparison.

"Who else would I be working with?" His voice gave away nothing, but the brown-haired woman sitting close to him let out a small sigh of what might have been relief.

Lana knew that for Edgeworth to be asking this far, he had to be interested. She pulled out another piece of paper and handed that over as well. "They are all high class musicians like yourself."

He gave a non-committal sound as he read the profiles. She continued. "The other violin player is a man named Diego Armando. He's worked with Mia Fey before and she's got nothing but good things to say about him. On viola there's Winston Payne. He's nothing spectacular but extremely reliable. For Violoncello there's Marvin Grossberg, who's a well known name in the industry. He's experienced and talented at what he does. Your pianist seems to be the only one who's an unknown factor. He's a new one, fresh out of Julliard it seems…"

Edgeworth allowed disbelief to color his tone for a moment. He had been nodding slightly in reply to Lana's words. "Apollo Justice? What kind of name is that?"

A wry smile touched the edges of Lana's mouth, her eyes sparkling, "It's his real name apparently."

He shook his head, handing the sheets back. "Mr. White obviously knows how to pick them." Edgeworth gave himself a little shake and tucked his violin back into its case, knowing that his words would signal to Lana that he had accepted.

"Your contract is forthcoming and you'll be excused from our rehearsals until that contract ends." Lana smiled fully at him, obviously pleased with his decision. She placed her hand on his arm briefly, "You won't regret it, Edgeworth."

Edgeworth's answering smile was no more than a brief ghost of the expression over his lips. "Indeed. I certainly hope I won't." He nodded to her once more, picking up his case. "I'll see you in a moment, Ms. Skye."

With that, he swept out of the room, heading in the direction of the stage to warm up before rehearsals began.

* * *

><p>"I'm what?" Phoenix almost jumped up into the air.<p>

Mia seemed to find his indignation amusing, "What's wrong, Phoenix?"

The black-haired man started pacing, a sure sign of nervousness. "I can't do it. Why does it have to be me? There are plenty of other talented musicians in the orchestra, most of them with much more experience than I do. They would be more than suitable for something like this!"

His mentor moved her head to tip to one side, hands on her hips. "Come on Phoenix, you're a star now, so it's natural for requests like this to come through!"

He shook his head. "I can't Chief! It's…" His words trailed off as he shook his head harder, not explaining any further. "Just not for me."

Mia looked more concerned now. "Why is that so, Phoenix? Why can't you be traded over to the LA Chamber Orchestra for a couple of months? We've just finished our main concert for this part of the year and the smaller ones Klavier and Kristoph can handle as first seats in your place."

Phoenix was frustrated. He couldn't go. Not now. He still wasn't ready for it; the first face to face confrontation between him and Edgeworth.

"You'll gain so much experience and be doing the Chamber Orchestra a favor." Mia tried again, it was important that Phoenix had as much experience as possible, under all sorts of conductors. His training had started a bit later than she would have liked, but his talent had been undeniable. However, this lead to the man to have a lack of practical experience in performing with different people, under different circumstances.

Phoenix settled back onto his piano stool, fingers touching just brushing the keys, but not playing. "Favor?"

"Their star violinist, Edgeworth, is absent for a couple of months having been sponsored by Mr. Redd White to form a private piano quintet for a particular performance. Thus they'll be short a soloist for their upcoming mid-year concert."

Mia was surprised at the loud exclamation that Phoenix gave as he tried to spin around. Somewhat bemused at the sudden change in mood, not to mention the loud crash of keys, she watched him curiously.

When the ringing in his ears stopped, Phoenix finally managed to turn around. "Miles won't be there?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. Instead, he settled for correcting them. "I mean… Edgeworth won't be there?"

Mia raised a questioning eyebrow but to Phoenix's relief, didn't comment on his words, electing only to give him a nod.

Phoenix visibly relaxed. "That's good then." He shuffled the music on the piano into a rough semblance of order before stuffing them into his music folder and wandering out of the room.

She watched him walk towards the door and out and waited for him to realize that he had no other information.

Sure enough, two minutes later, Phoenix stuck his head back in before shuffling the rest of his body into the room once more. The expression on his face was sheepish. "Uh, Chief? When was this going to be?"

Mia walked over, patted him on the shoulder and handed him a sheet. "You'll start from their next rehearsal, which will be on Monday at 8am sharp." Phoenix nodded, distracted by reading through the sheet.

"Schumann's_ Allegro Afesttuoso_? They're expecting me to learn that in…" Phoenix's eyes focused on the date of the performance. "A _month_!"

Mia let out a snort of laughter. "Are you saying that you can't?"

"No!" His pride made him stubborn. "I've played the piece before; I just need to relearn it. It's playing together with another orchestra that worries me a bit." Phoenix ran his fingers through his hair. "I've got a connection with our musicians, Chief; we've played together for almost a year. We're used to each other. But…"

"You'll be fine, Phoenix. The Chamber Orchestra isn't that different to us." Mia's hand was once more on his shoulder, reassuring. "Just go over there and make us proud."

"Uh. If you say so Chief." With a sigh, Phoenix removed himself from the practice room.

* * *

><p>'I guess this is it,' Phoenix reflected to himself a couple of days later, standing on the front steps of Royce Hall, one of the two home theatres of the LA Chamber Orchestra.<p>

There were people standing about on the steps, scattered into groups, all either carrying their instruments or had them propped up against the stairs. Phoenix felt strangely out of place even though it was where he thought he belonged.

'Edgeworth plays – played here.' He thought, gaze becoming slightly distant as he remembered his childhood friend. The childhood friend who was always humming or making marks on his sheaf of manuscript papers and when asked, would tell everyone that he aspired to be a brilliant pianist like his father.

"Hey pal! Move it, you're in the way!" A loud voice drew him out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry." Phoenix's reaction was instinctive, as he moved to one side and nodded his head in apology. To his surprise, the man didn't immediately move on, instead, he stopped just to one side of him.

Phoenix looked and had to tip his head back a bit to meet the other man's eyes. "Can I help you?"

The newcomer's voice was gruff but apparently well meaning, "You new here?"

Phoenix noted the stubble on the other's chin as his gaze traveled down, taking in the slightly shabby coat before his eyes landed on the black instrument case and music folder tucked under one arm. "Uh… Kind of?"

"What type of answer is that pal? I'm Richard Gumshoe." Here Gumshoe scratched his head in an almost sheepish manner. "But most people tend to call me…"

"DICK!" Another voice shrieked out causing both men to wince. Gumshoe turned to wave at a particularly hip looking young woman with orange hair that was held back by a pale pink hair band. Her solemn black instrument case looked almost out of place next to her.

Gumshoe turned back to Phoenix with an even more sheepish look, if that was possible. "That's Lotta. She's with my section, on the French horn. I'm on the trombone." Gumshoe patted the black case next to him fondly.

Phoenix nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. It looked like the Chamber Orchestra had plenty of interesting individuals as well.

"So pal?" Gumshoe was looking at him expectantly.

"Huh?"

The spiky black-haired pianist was awarded with a hard slap on the back as Gumshoe laughed. "Your name?"

"Oh!" Phoenix remembered belatedly that he still hadn't given the other man his actual name, "I'm Phoenix Wright. I'm a pianist."

Gumshoe's eyes immediately became shuttered and not a little hostile. "You're the one who took Mr. Edgeworth's place!"

"What?" Phoenix's eyes couldn't possibly get any wider if he held them open. "What do you mean by taking his place?"

The taller man seemed to puff up with indignation. "Else why would he go to some private quintet and you come here to be our soloist? Mr. Edgeworth had that position before you came to take it away!"

Phoenix sweat dropped, mouth hanging open a bit but couldn't think of anything to convince the other man otherwise. "Uh. I'm sure that's not the case…"

At that precise moment, everyone still hanging about the stairs started moving in, with a quick glance at his watch Phoenix almost jumped out of his skin. It was ten to eight. He was supposed to be meeting the conductor right now.

With a quick goodbye to Gumshoe who didn't respond, obviously still annoyed about the Edgeworth issue, Phoenix pushed past the crowd as much as he could, earning slightly irritated glares and mumbles along the way.

It really wouldn't do to be late on his first day.

* * *

><p>Phoenix sighed and then sighed again. He was currently sitting behind the imposing black Bösendorfer on the stage of the concert hall at Royce. It was almost half past five, an hour past the finishing time for rehearsals.<p>

He was frustrated and not a little tired, having spent night after night practicing his piece to polish it back up. Today had been his fifth time rehearsing with the Chamber Orchestra and all in all, it had been… slightly better.

The first rehearsal had gone pretty badly after only having barely three days to brush up on Schumann's concerto. However, to his surprise, their conductor Lana seemed unconcerned, allowing him to sit out most of that first rehearsal so he could get a grasp on the orchestra dynamics.

His fingers transcribed the notations on paper onto the keys before him; going over the same passage once more, wincing a bit as the arpeggios slurred a little. Despite all of his practices, some parts still didn't sound entirely correct.

"It's getting better." a soft voice behind him noted.

The piano stool made a protesting screech against the polished wooden floors.

"I'm sorry for surprising you, Mr. Wright." Lana Skye walked out of the shadows of the seats in the hall and hopped on stage to stand next to him.

"Ms Skye, I uh… It's ok." He smiled a little at her, slightly embarrassed to have been caught out like this. "I was just trying to get a better handle on the end of the movement."

She nodded, leaning over his shoulder to study the piece thoughtfully, one finger tracing the notations on the crisp white paper. "Try softening and slowing down more obviously during this passage. It'll allow you to make a bigger impact when the crescendo comes in along with the rest of the orchestra."

Phoenix stared at her momentarily before he scanned the passage in question and did a quick run through, eyes widening as everything seemed to drop into place perfectly. He grabbed the pencil sitting on the music stand and scribbled a note next to the passage before turning back to Lana. "Thank you. It just didn't sound right before, no matter what I did."

Her smile was mysterious. "When you've been in this for as long as I have, you'll learn to interpret the music better too."

The black-haired man laughed a little, fingers ghosting lightly over the ivory keys as he talked. "I guess. Chief's always telling me that I need more experience."

Lana settled down on one of the many spare chairs on stage. "Run through the piece once more and then we can have a talk. I haven't seen Mia in a while."

Phoenix nodded in affirmation and closed his eyes, controlling his breathing, every trace of amusement gone. A minute later, the opening chords of the concerto rang out loud and clear.

* * *

><p>Edgeworth tapped his cell phone screen absently, wondering if he should try calling Lana again. On his passenger seat lay two sealed envelopes, both bulky from what he guessed were papers.<p>

One had _Lana Skye_ written on it. The other had _Mia Fey_. Apparently Lana and Mia Fey knew each other outside of music. Edgeworth certainly hadn't been aware of the fact. He knew that they knew _of_ each other but…

Shrugging that minuscule concern off, Edgeworth reflected that may well work in his favor. Redd White had given him these envelopes with the specific instructions that they were to be delivered to the recipients named. Personally if possible.

However, it was entirely possible that he would be able to have Lana give Mia Fey her envelope and save the trip over to Walt Disney Concert Hall.

'And eliminate the possibility of running into Phoenix Wright.' Hovered a little thought in the back of his mind. Edgeworth shut it up without much effort. Wright was something he did not like to dwell on much. Besides, his reluctance to head over to the other hall was obviously only because it was entirely out of his way and he was a busy man.

With that thought firmly in mind, Edgeworth stepped out of where he had parked opposite Royce and walked into the familiar foyer of the hall, envelopes securely held in one hand. The security guard greeted him with a smile, knowing him by sight from the countless times he had stayed back for hours after the rest had left, practicing by himself.

Edgeworth headed towards Lana's office and upon arriving, knocked sharply twice. He waited for almost a minute but no response came. The only conclusion was that she was not in. A small crinkle of his brow signaled his slight annoyance with that fact.

He knew that Lana would not have gone home this early unless there was an emergency, which Edgeworth highly doubted. Lana was as dedicated to her work as he was, always staying behind after rehearsals had ended, sometimes spending most of the night here.

The silver-haired violinist wandered for a bit before a slight strain of melody caught his attention. With his head tipped in the direction where it seemed to stem from, Edgeworth quickened his step and arrived at the theatre shortly after. The notes, now easily identified as from a piano, were haunting yet gentle at the same time. He recognized the piece as Schumann's only completed concerto and feeling a slight curiosity tug at him, he pushed open the doors. To his knowledge, there was no pianist even loosely attached to the LA Chamber Orchestra, especially not one of such high standard.

Edgeworth felt the polished wood beneath his hand give way without so much as a creak to announce his presence and close just as silently behind him as he walked into the actual theatre. His eyes immediately focused on the two people onstage. One he readily identified as Lana. The other…

He felt his breath hitch for a moment. 'Impossible.'

Phoenix Wright sat at the piano, oblivious to the rest of the world as he moved his fingers over the keys, body moving slightly with the tempo of the concerto. Drawn, despite his misgivings, Edgeworth continued moving forwards, closer to the stage, the envelopes in his hand all but forgotten.

Wright's fingers danced over arpeggios almost flawlessly and Edgeworth noted a quality in the other man's music that he had rarely heard from anywhere else. He was also hard pressed to identify it.

When Wright closed the piece with a sharp crescendo to its final chords, he left his fingers on the keys, letting the sound fade away naturally. The notes echoed almost hauntingly in the empty hall.

The sound of Lana's voice brought both men firmly back to reality. Edgeworth realized with a jerk that he had been almost… _seduced_ by the music that Wright had been playing. The mere fact which horrified him and his logical mind identified as preposterous because it certainly hadn't been perfect or anything close to it. For a start, the technical errors were impossible to count due to their sheer number.

The violinist reached the stage and stopped just shy of the territory of the stage lights, hesitating, before moving away silently, exiting the way he came. Edgeworth ignored the voice inside him that told him he was just running away from meeting Wright. He's pride insisted that it was merely because he did not want to interrupt Lana and Wright's session.

The man himself ignored his internal debate and backtracked until he was back outside Lana's office. This time he pushed open the door, never locked and penned a quick note on the notepad that Lana kept handy for cases like this, placing the envelopes carefully on the table where she was certain to see them.

With his task done, Miles Edgeworth, violin virtuoso, exited Royce Hall without alerting either person inside the concert theatre to his presence.

* * *

><p>Phoenix tried to merge with his couch a bit more, television remote hanging idly from one hand. It was late and he had finally had his best rehearsal to date with the Chamber Orchestra earlier on today. The extended solo practice sessions had finally paid off.<p>

Of course, Lana's guidance hadn't gone amiss either. For the past week, ever since that first session after rehearsal when she helped him out, the Chamber Orchestra conductor had taken time to stay behind at least an hour after each rehearsal with him. Phoenix could see exactly why Mia and Lana were close friends.

Lana, despite her status as conductor to one of the most respected orchestras in America, critiqued but didn't criticize. Her suggestions (and they were all suggestions, never commands) were all very detached but at the same time were always to the crux of any problem that occurred. Sometimes Lana reminded him more than a little of Mia.

Speaking of Mia…

He sat up and rummaged in his coat pockets for a moment before triumphantly pulling out one gold embossed ticket. His mentor and friend had given him it last night. Mia had called earlier in the week and asked if they could catch up over dinner or something similar; Phoenix had jumped at the chance to finally take a break from the concerto.

Over dinner, they caught up on random things such as how the Philharmonic was going while he was absent and Pearl's study. Phoenix had thought it was just Mia's way of getting him from his piano for a night, but before they parted ways, she had given him this ticket.

"_This is for you, Phoenix."_

_He was notably confused as he took the ticket. "What?"_

_Mia smiled. "Mr. White has invited me to attend a dress rehearsal for his private concert. Since Diego's performing on the night and Maya had her Steel Samurai movie premier to go to, I thought you might like to come with me."_

_Phoenix didn't respond for a moment, not knowing how or if he wanted to turn it down. Mia's expression was understanding. "I'm not forcing you to go, but just hold on to that ticket and call me on the day if you decide to come."_

He was in quandary. He wanted to hear Edgeworth play. No, he corrected himself, he _needed_ to hear the other man's music live. To hear the apparently flawless technique and perfection that each of the pieces he played held.

But most of all, Phoenix wanted to hear for himself if Edgeworth's music was truly as soulless as the recordings and broadcasts made him sound.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Phoenix was waiting in the street in front of his apartment, dressed formally in a black suit, his equally black tie hanging loosely off his neck as he tightened it and loosened every now and again. He stopped playing with it when a dark sedan drew to a halt in front of him.<p>

"I'm glad you decided to accompany me." Mia smiled gently at him as Phoenix slid himself gracelessly into the vehicle.

"Hmm." Was the noncommittal response that she received in reply. However, Mia knew Phoenix better than most and her sharp eyes immediately noted the tenseness in the set of his shoulders and the nervous biting of the lower lip.

She sat back in her seat, adjusting the mirrors slowly, giving him time to relax. When Mia spoke, her voice so soft that he almost missed it. "You don't have to come tonight."

Phoenix jerked and ran one hand through his hair, shoulders slouching with a sigh. He seemed uncaring that he had just destroyed over half an hour worth of styling with that single hand. When he finally replied, his voice was equally soft. "No. I do."

Mia questioned no further, merely patting his hand before shifting her car into gear and driving towards their destination.

* * *

><p>All in all, Phoenix reflected that it couldn't go too badly. He was currently in the foyer of the private theatre mingling with various other people, some of whom he knew of and many of them well-known. The dress rehearsal had yet to begin but Phoenix was once again filled with the sense of not belonging.<p>

Shaking himself mentally, Phoenix reminded himself firmly that he now belonged to this world as much as the next musician. He had _earned_ his place and none of that self-doubt that used to plague him day and night should remain.

A quick glance around the room showed him that Mia and Lana were chatting in a corner with a tall man with medium length black hair, swept back from his forehead and sporting a small goatee. Phoenix wasn't entirely sure, but Mia seemed especially happy at the moment, her smile just a fraction brighter than normal.

He continued watching, wondering if it would be polite to just retreat while it was still possible to. His gaze fixed wistfully on the welcoming darkness that enveloped the doorway from where he came. Stopping this train of thought, the pianist made his way slowly around the room, nodding to an acquaintance every now and again, trying his hardest to take his mind off leaving. Phoenix was sure that as soon as he put one foot out from this theatre, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to come back in, Edgeworth or no.

Before he had any more time to deliberate or change his mind, Redd White appeared, clapping his hands for attention. The entire foyer fell silent as everyone turned to their host who literally sparkled under the chandelier lights from the multiple rings and ornaments that hung off his fingers and neck. Next to him, a pink clad female hung off his arm and every word, making what she probably thought was an adorable pouty face at the crowd.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen and thank you for attending my little dress rehearsal tonight. I hope you'll find it to be an enjoyable experience," the jewels he wore shimmered and glinted teasingly as he moved to and fro. "The main event is just about to begin, so I would appreciate it if you seated yourself accordingly. I will see you all after the show."

With that, he sauntered off, presumably to find his musicians for the night and deliver his final instructions, his pink partner giggling lightly and faithfully following him backstage.

With a sense of trepidation and excitement, Phoenix caught Mia's eye, the man from before no where in sight. He approached her side and gave both her and Lana, whole stood off slightly to one side, a small smile and a nod.

The two women, who apparently had seats next to each other, led the way down the aisles, and to Phoenix's increasing discomfort, steadily closer towards the stage. When they finally stopped, he noted with something akin to panic that their seats happened to be _directly_ in front of the stage; they would be easily visible to anyone who stood onstage.

"Phoenix?" Mia's soft voice made him chastise his reluctance. Quickly making his way over to his seat, the black-haired man sat down next to Mia, forcing himself not to fidget and make his discomfort known. However, he underestimated the degree to which his mentor knew him. Mia patted his hand and smiled reassuringly once more before turning her attention to the stage. He did likewise and almost forgot to breathe.

The quintet who now stood on the stage shone. Their instruments gleamed, especially the mahogany Steinway grand that stood proudly to one side. Phoenix's eyes were especially drawn to one particular silver-haired violinist. He barely even spared a glance for the remainder of the musicians.

As silence fell, he waited. This moment had been a long time coming, but now he would finally hear Edgeworth in person.

The piano picked out the opening chords with the cello.

It began.

* * *

><p>Standing with his fellow musicians and sponsor, Edgeworth nodded and made polite conversation as was required of him. He took this opportunity to relax slightly; it was the interval after all.<p>

Redd White stood to his left, voice loud and obnoxious as ever, telling everyone about the whys and hows of this particular concert.

The violinist felt sipped at his glass of cool mineral water as he listened to the conversations around him halfheartedly, his mind however was fixated on one point in his memory; at the beginning of the concert, when he had swept his gaze across the front row of the audience.

There was only one brief moment that Edgeworth had felt a stirring of panic, and that was the moment when he had spotted Phoenix Wright sitting in the front row of the audience. He had frozen for a brief second, wondering why on earth the other man would be here and how he was invited in the first place.

However, that thought didn't remain in his mind for long as his customary self-confidence took over. If Phoenix was here, Edgeworth wanted to show him exactly what a professional musician should and could sound like.

The praises of the group that had gathered around him presently reassured him that he had achieved his point. Letting his gaze wander once more, Edgeworth refused to acknowledge the fact that he might be actively searching out someone, let alone Phoenix.

But that didn't stop him from excusing himself from his group when he did spot the pianist conversing with his mentor, Mia Fey, in a quiet corner. Moving quietly, trying his best to seem like he was merely circulating around the multiple groups of guests scattered all around the foyer for a brief greeting, Edgeworth moved steadily closer to the black-haired musician.

When he was sure that he was positioned perfectly, Edgeworth turned, his gaze cool and deliberately meeting Mia's gaze first. He nodded to her, a barely noticeable dip of his chin. Slowly, making sure to show nothing, he moved his gaze onto his childhood acquaintance, their eyes meeting.

Contrary to his expectations, Phoenix wasn't shocked, or surprised or showing any emotion remotely similar to either. Instead, the silver-haired man was greeted with the most expressionless face that he had ever seen on Phoenix.

Edgeworth could on blink and watch as Phoenix nodded to him once, coldly, before brushing past him to speak with Lana.

As soon as the other man moved away, he regained his senses suddenly and a hot anger he hadn't felt in so long flooded his body. How dare he…

Almost immediately as the anger came, it dissipated. Edgeworth's cool logic almost forcibly reasserted itself, draining the anger. Turning to Mia, he made polite conversation for a couple of minutes before making his excuses and moving back to his original group.

By the time he returned, most of the group surrounding them had moved away, Redd White had gone elsewhere, taking his entourage with him. Only a couple of unfamiliar faces were still talking with the present four members of the quintet.

"Edgeworth." Marvin Grossberg, the quintet's cellist, nodded at him and quickly included him in the conversation he was having with an older gentleman about the merits of several new conductors who had recently made a name for themselves.

In the midst of that conversation, the members of the quintet heard the soft, background music change to something mellower. It was their cue to finish up and warm up for the second half of the performance.

Politely excusing themselves, the five made their way back towards the stage, talking amongst themselves, exchanging bits of gossip that they picked up.

As the group turned the corner, Edgeworth, who was at the head of the group, almost collided with someone. He took a step back, annoyed and opened his mouth to deliver a scathing statement.

The other man seemed deeply apologetic. "I'm sor…"

Their gazes met and blue eyes shuttered immediately. Edgeworth could almost see the distance that now stood between them. Without another sound, Phoenix took a step sideways and continued on, ignoring the violinist completely, deliberately leaving the apology half given.

Edgeworth squared his shoulders as his eyes followed Phoenix's back as the black-haired man moved away purposefully. His hands were clenched at his sides, his nails digging almost painfully into the soft flesh of his palm.

"What is with that man?" Winston Payne's screechy voice snapped Edgeworth out of his phase and he realized with a stab of irritation and embarrassment that all of the other members of his quintet were watching _him, _waiting for an answer.

"Is there a problem?" Despite his misgivings and own anger at Phoenix for that unspoken insult, Edgeworth's voice remained as cool and sharp as usual.

"That young man…" Grossberg tried to be diplomatic, "He seemed… displeased."

Diego Armando, their other violinist, snorted and shook his head. "That's a pleasant way of putting it Marvin."

"Mr. Edgeworth." The slightly over loud voice of Apollo caused Edgeworth to actually actively resist the urge to roll his eyes.

Instead, he settled on a slightly colder tone and crossed his arms. "Yes?" He also point blank refused to address the pianist by that utterly ridiculous name.

Apollo seemed to waver under the undeniable unfriendliness that Edgeworth seemed intent on. "Did… do you know him?"

The silver-haired man froze for an almost unnoticeable moment before dislodging the question off with an irritated wave of the hand. "Most certainly not."

Deciding to make himself scarce before he inadvertently said something he shouldn't, Edgeworth brushed off the remainder of the questions that the rest of the quintet seemed insistent on asking him with his usual aloofness and made his way quickly onstage and busied himself with tuning his violin once more.

By the time the rest of the quintet made their way onstage after him, they had fallen silent and only gave him the occasional glance, the quiet sounds of their instruments barely registered in his mind.

Edgeworth ignored them all, using the time to continue reassuring himself that what Phoenix did mattered not to him.

He almost succeeded.

* * *

><p>Phoenix sat in front of his piano broodingly. The performance from almost three days ago replayed itself again and again in his mind. The music was pitch perfect, harmonically perfect and technically perfect. Edgeworth's solo had been all of that and more. Even so, Phoenix still felt the disappointment and slight anger that he had felt the moment Edgeworth had put his bow to string and played.<p>

His fingers plucked out a simple melody as he remained in thought. Where had the Miles Edgeworth from his childhood gone?

Phoenix had never expected the man to remain the same, of course. Everyone changed. That was the way of the world; you grew wiser and more mature as you grew older. But the black-haired pianist knew for certain that the changes that Edgeworth had undergone had nothing to do with time and everything to do with choice.

The younger Edgeworth, no matter how much he paused or made mistakes during a song, had never played like it was just another thing to do. The younger Edgeworth had made the piano, his instrument of choice then, echo his joy, his sorrow and on occasion, his disappointment and anger. It had been a mirror into his emotions, showing what he couldn't or wouldn't say into something that was understandable.

At times, Phoenix regretted storming away from Edgeworth so abruptly that day at the dress rehearsal. But his disappointment had been so deep and palpable and he hadn't been able to hide it properly before coming face to face with the violinist.

The cold expression, the cool voice and the mocking grey eyes appeared in his mind's eye once more.

"What happened, Miles?" Phoenix's whisper remained unanswered as the music from his piano drowned out his softly spoken words.

* * *

><p>It was just another routine day for him. Edgeworth stood alone in his private practice room that Redd White had insisted he used whilst in the quintet. His violin on his shoulder, bow poised just above the strings. There were only a couple more days to go before the private concert and he wanted to be more than prepared. Edgeworth wanted to be <em>perfect<em>.

Despite his relaxed stance, the violinist's mind was anything but. It continued whirling around the image of a certain pianist stalking out of the concert halfway, eyes hardened with disappointment.

Edgeworth shook himself. He didn't and wouldn't allow one Phoenix Wright's actions from that dress rehearsal to get to him. However, for all of his conviction, it hadn't done much good. Edgeworth could _feel_ his music change. He could feel the difference.

With a sigh, one that he rarely allowed himself the luxury of, he settled the bow onto the strings and closed his eyes, letting his subconscious take over. The bow moved, guided by his hand, skillfully over the strings and produced full bodied notes in their wake.

Without knowing it, Edgeworth moved into the first movement of Vivaldi's _Winter_, the quick, sharp notes ringing loud and clear in the warm afternoon air. His posture relaxed entirely as he let the music wash over him, clearing all unnecessary thoughts from his mind.

As he reached the ending notes of the final movement, something moving at the edge of his vision silenced his bow. The back of his neck prickled with the intensity of the gaze being directed at him.

Edgeworth knew who it was instinctively. His hands came down to rest by his sides, one hand curled firmly around the neck of his violin, the other held his bow tightly. There was only one person who would dare to interrupt his private practice with no notice and have the gall to remain standing at the edge of his vision, waiting for acknowledgment.

Thus, it didn't surprise him when the other man spoke. "You've changed, Edgeworth."

He turned, silver eyes emotionless, and inclined his head fractionally. "So have you, Wright."

* * *

><p>Phoenix didn't understand the insane urge that drove him to seek his old friend out. He didn't try to deny it either.<p>

But it occurred to him just how stupid he looked as he leaned against the door for support, watching the man who he had worked so hard to become equals with.

By the time Phoenix had bothered to notice, as occupied as he was with noting the way Edgeworth's fingers touched the strings and the shift of his shoulder ever so slightly as he played, the silver-haired man had stopped and lowered his instrument to his sides.

Pushing away from the door, face feeling slightly warm with embarrassment, Phoenix nevertheless took a couple of steps in, "You've changed, Edgeworth."

As soon as the words were out, he wanted them back. After five years of intensive studying and practicing almost day and night, expanding on what used to be a hobby, the first words spoken deliberately between them was something as trivial and offhand like that?

Edgeworth turned and blue eyes clashed with silver, one pair filled with something deep and unspeakable, the other filled with coolness. "So have you, Wright."

There was nothing Phoenix could say to that. He had changed. Both of them had changed, completely out of recognition in Edgeworth's case. His mind raced over what he wanted to say, what he had planned to say, what he had rehearsed saying all night and on the way here.

'_I've followed you so far, but you've disappointed me. Where did the Miles Edgeworth I used to know go?'_

Empty.

The words that had sounded to righteous and so perfect before now seemed so pitifully empty. Phoenix searched desperately for something, anything to make it seem like he actually had a reason to be standing here, in front of the man whom he had chased after for years, literally.

Edgeworth seemed to have no trouble however, "Why are you here?" The words held no hint of his emotions or gave Phoenix any clue as to what the violinist was thinking.

"I came to see you." the words escaped unbidden from the black-haired man's mouth, with no thought.

A raised eyebrow greeted that particular answer. "I am honored." The tone said that he was anything but.

Silence fell between them for a moment longer before Edgeworth turned away again, raising his violin back to its original position on his shoulder. "If there's nothing more, please close the door on your way out."

"And don't come back unless you actually have a reason to, Wright." Ihe words, added as an apparent afterthought held the barest hint of derision.

Phoenix shook his head sadly. "What happened to you, Miles?"

The other man stiffened at the use of his given name and turned back with a hardened glare. "I am perfectly fine. Now you may take your leave." The words weren't a suggestion.

The pianist remained stubbornly in his place, even daring to move forward a couple of steps. "The Miles Edgeworth I knew never spoke to anyone like that, let alone a friend." There was the barest hesitation before Phoenix used the word 'friend'. It was the first time admitting that he still considered Edgeworth a friend out loud.

The violin fell to one side, one hand turning almost white from the strength he was holding it with. Edgeworth moved his head slowly from one side to the other before meeting the sad look straight on. "The Miles Edgeworth you knew is dead."

This made Phoenix move forward even more, invading Edgeworth's personal space. One of his hands stretched out, barely brushing an elbow before the silver-haired man retreated a couple of steps, fixing the intruder with his trademark glare. "What do you think you're doing, Wright?"

Phoenix shook his again and gestured to the violin. "Stopping you from walking down the incorrect path."

A derisive snort. "Are you delusional? Which part of the path I walk is 'incorrect'?"

"Your path to perfection, Miles." Phoenix's gaze is soft, almost pleading. "You cannot achieve perfection walking down the way you're taking."

The silver-eyed gaze was hard and uncompromising. "You talk as if you know the so called correct path." The tone was condescending and not a little mocking.

His corners of his mouth moved upwards into a completely humorless smile. "Tell me, Wright, what do you, a barely professional concert pianist, know about 'perfection'?"

The tone, the mocking and the cutting remarks hurt but Phoenix showed no hint of it as he continued to move forward. "Your father…"

All emotion disappeared from Edgeworth.

"Only his music could be called perfection." Phoenix finished softly, coming to a halt just before the violinist.

Edgeworth met his eyes for a brief moment before looking away, right hand gripping his left elbow in an almost unconscious gesture, bow pressed against his arm. His jaw tightened. "Do not talk to me about my father Wright." The words were venom, hissed out between clenched teeth.

"Technique means nothing, Miles." Phoenix seemed to know when he had to press his advantage. "Please turn back, before it's too late."

Silver eyes snapped back to Phoenix who still stood unmoving in front of him, his frustration from the past days finally boiling over. Edgeworth all but threw his bow and violin into its case on the table before shoving the black-haired man slightly.

"How dare you walk in here and talk to me like you care, Wright!" Edgeworth's voice was slightly raised, allowing himself to show more emotion than he had for years. His eyes were darkened in anger, all directed on the man standing before him.

"You weren't there when I had to bury my father. You weren't there when Von Karma taught me the path to perfection. You know nothing about me. Don't pretend to _care_!" Each sentence was punctuated with a hard shove until Phoenix was pressed against the door.

For a brief moment, the only sounds in the room were harsh breathing as the two men stared at each other. Edgeworth felt self-disgust at having let himself become so worked up over something as this. He looked away to one side and took a couple of steps backwards, away from Phoenix. Or he tried to anyway.

As he moved backwards, a hand darted out, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulled him back before another went around the back of his neck, until he was eye to eye with Phoenix Wright once more. Except this time, they were pressed up against each other. Edgeworth could _feel_ the rise and fall of Phoenix's chest as he breathed and the brush of warm air over his cheeks.

"I do care, Miles. More than you can imagine." With that slightly cryptic statement, Phoenix moved forward a couple more inches, closing the space between them entirely until their lips met in a gentle, chaste kiss.

* * *

><p>The key felt heavy in his hand. Edgeworth weighed it slowly, dropping it into the palm of his opposite hand. His ignition was off but he didn't move from his position within his vehicle.<p>

The silence felt almost smothering in the tight space inside the car but still, the silver-haired man sat staring, seemingly far away from reality.

Ever since Phoenix had appeared in his sight the other day, interrupting not only his practice, but his life, Edgeworth hadn't been able to get this particular urge out of his system. The urge which had resulted in him sitting silently in his car, directly outside the home he had been raised in for the first several years of his life.

When the slightest hint of self doubt had surfaced, so had the strict face and voice of his mentor, Von Karma.

"_Emotion has no place in your playing. Emotion is for the weak. The only way to reach perfection is to be true to the notes on the paper."_

It was almost half an hour later that he finally stirred and rotated his shoulders, slightly stiff from the tense position he had been holding them in. His grey eyes roamed around again, taking in the surroundings directly outside the car.

Edgeworth closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fortifying himself against what he knew he must do. A moment later, he slid himself out of his red vehicle before locking it, the key he held before now weighing heavily within the pocket of his jacket.

'I've come to face my demons. Nothing more.' He reminded himself as he walked up the garden path that lead directly to the front door of a place he used to call home.

For a moment, he merely stood there, one hand in his pocket, clenched around the key, thinking, remembering. Then, with one smooth but somewhat sharp movement, Edgeworth fitted the key to the door and swung it open forcibly, as if expecting something to rush out or approach him.

Nothing did. The front parlor stood identical to when he had left it over a decade ago, when his father had passed away. A clenching feeling within his chest made Edgeworth take a mental step away from that particular train of thought, instead focusing himself on the emptiness that the rooms seemed to hold.

He wandered, taking his time, from room to room, reacquainting himself with the layout and occasionally stopping to touch an object that brought back particularly fond memories. There was only one place he avoided for the moment, the music room.

The violinist even took the time to stop back at his old bedroom, removing the bundle of letters that he had secreted there from years and years ago. All of them addressed to him in childish handwriting. All of them asking for him to write back, to acknowledge the letter, anything.

Phoenix had always wanted simple things.

He never let the bundle of papers go as he continued on his journey around his childhood home. His fingers worried at the length of string that bound the pile together but he didn't pull it apart, choosing to let them remain as they were for the moment being.

When Edgeworth finally arrived back at the parlor again, he forced himself to take the path that he knew would take him down the corridor where he stopped in front of a particular door.

It didn't vary from any of the others in anyway; a burnished brown, now dusty from disuse. It was what it held behind it that made him so apprehensive about opening it. Edgeworth's long fingers held the door knob but didn't move to twist it. His breathing had hitched slightly and his mind was beginning to fill itself with a mild sense of panic. There was just that _need_ to turn and remove himself from this place and never return.

Pushing that particular feeling away, Edgeworth closed his eyes and breathed deeply in and out for a moment, like he would before attempting a particularly trying piece of music. The calm that washed over him didn't fail him; his mind suddenly fell free of his fears.

When he opened his eyes again, the violinist was perfectly in control of his emotions and the door knob turned with ease beneath his hand. The door made no sound as it swung open.

The room was dark, as he expected, since the curtains were drawn tightly. With slow, measured steps, Edgeworth walked over to the window pulling the heavy drapes apart with a jerk. The following dust cloud made his eyes water for a moment before it settled.

By the time it did settle, the virtuoso's attention was no longer on the window, or the curtains. It was solely focused on the once gleaming baby grand sitting in the pride of place in the centre of the room.

Edgeworth walked over as slow as possible, one hand reached out, barely brushing the dark cased instrument with his free hand before he drew it back as if burned. After a moment of just staring at it, he ventured to touch it once more, this time lifting the casing covering the white and black keys.

He watched impassively with grey eyes as his fingers from one hand settled themselves on the keys, one finger coming down to press on middle C, the note ringing out, slightly out of tune after years of disuse and not having been tuned.

That one note brought back years of memories that he had tried to suppress and against his will, Edgeworth slid to sit down on the chair, which almost seemed to be _waiting_ for him, his finger never moving from that one key.

After a moment, he removed himself from the chair almost forcibly and made his way over to the tall cabinet which held recordings and tapes of his father's performances. Edgeworth's fingers traced a path down the countless CDs and similar which bore his father's name before picking one that held a particular memory for him.

Sliding it gently into the aged CD player that stood unobtrusively to the side of the cabinet, he turned on the power and let it play.

The music filled the room and as the piano trilled into life, jumping into the orchestral fray with abandon, Edgeworth admitted to himself that Phoenix was right for once.

"_Only his music could be called perfection."_

Somehow, inside this room, listening to his father's music, Edgeworth felt Von Karma's forceful presence slightly less. There was less pressure for him to be Miles Edgeworth, violin prodigy, and more space for him to be just Miles.

The piece currently playing rose to its crescendo and Edgeworth closed his eyes and felt Phoenix against him once more, bodies pressed against one another and heard the even more shocking confession once more: _"I do care, Miles. More than you can imagine."_

"Damn you, Wright." His throat felt slightly tight as he swallowed, trying to bite back the oddly bittersweet feeling welling with himself. His hands clenched around the pile of letters that he had carried from his room, fingers creasing the worn paper and digging into his palms.

"_Remember, Miles, there is no such thing as perfection unless your music has soul."_ The words drifted from some long forgotten memory. The voice belonged to someone who had been dead for more than a decade, someone who he had thought the world of.

"Father." Edgeworth tried biting back the prickling feeling behind his eyelids, but it was all in vain as two liquid trails trickled down his cheeks. Wiping them away absently with one hand, he seated himself at the piano again feeling much more at ease with himself, fingers tracing each note as the music from the CD player continued to play.

Now, even though his heart felt lighter than it had been for years, Edgeworth's mind was filled with thoughts, not the least of which was doubt, directed at himself for the first time.

* * *

><p>Phoenix regretted a lot of things in his life, but there was nothing he regretted more than kissing Edgeworth.<p>

Actually, that wasn't entirely correct. He didn't regret the _action_ of kissing the other man who also happened to be his childhood friend and maybe something more. But he did regret the circumstances that the kiss happened in.

The pianist felt vaguely guilty over what he saw as forcing a kiss from the violinist. His fingers danced over piano keys in almost a furtive fashion, back hunched a little.

Heaven knew how Phoenix had gotten through the past couple of days and rehearsals. His mind was almost always on Edgeworth and the almost non-existent reaction he had to that _incident_.

When Phoenix had finally pulled back, cheeks stained with a rapidly deepening blush, Edgeworth had merely moved back and picked up his instrument and left without a single word. Phoenix hadn't tried to contact him since.

He had wanted to, but thought it might have been for the best if he left the other man alone for a while longer.

Phoenix sighed and moved his hands mechanically, his music sounding less full than normal. It was way past the time for rehearsals to have ended. Lana hadn't shown up for their customary after rehearsal session. She had mentioned something about having other pressing business to attend to. Phoenix had felt a sense of relief. He knew that he wouldn't be able to hide anything from Lana, especially not when his music sounded like this.

The slumped posture he held at the piano was also foreign but felt oddly fitting considering his darkened and depleted mood. He had done so much in the past years, just so he could be on equal standing as Edgeworth.

'But, it could never do any good in the end.' Phoenix reflected to himself with a sense of finality. 'Because we're too different. He was born to be a star, while I…'

"Wright."

Great, now he was also hearing things, like Edgeworth calling his name out in the middle of the concert hall.

Rapid footsteps sounded from behind him and Phoenix's breath hitched. He didn't dare to turn, he didn't even dare to _move_.

"Wright." The voice sounded more impatient now, with a distinct bite in the tone.

Closing his eyes and steeling himself, Phoenix turned his head and was greeted with the sight of Miles Edgeworth strolling up the stairs that lead up to the stage, violin case in hand.

"Edgeworth?" He almost didn't dare to say the name out loud, in case it was all really just an illusion that might disappear any time.

Edgeworth's mouth seemed to kick up slightly at the corners at this show of disbelief and he raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Yes, that's me.'

The piano seat screeched out loud in protest as Phoenix stood up suddenly, his eyes fixed on Edgeworth. "What are you… I mean… Why… I mean…"

"Sit down, Wright and do shut up." The bite of impatience was back.

Phoenix flopped back into his seat, mouth sealed, blue eyes wide and still fixated on the other man who now stood barely two meters away.

As silence fell, Edgeworth stood still, as if questioning why he was here. Or so Phoenix thought before he caught the slight crease of the other man's brow combined with the way his fingers clenched and unclenched around the handle of his violin case. With a jolt, the pianist realized his friend (and it felt satisfying to use that word again) was _nervous._

Softly, so it could be ignored if the other man chose to, Phoenix cleared his throat and called. "Miles?"

A slight tremor ran through the other man, almost invisible unless, like Phoenix, you were staring so intently. Edgeworth looked up once briefly, to meet blue eyes before looking away just as fast.

Phoenix realized with another jolt of shock that Edgeworth was standing in his customary pose of discomfort; one hand held tight against the elbow of the opposite arm, violin case resting against the floor.

"Miles? What exactly…?" Phoenix never got to finish the sentence because at that moment, Edgeworth looked up again, eyes determined.

"Teach me." The words were released so softly that the black-haired man doubted his hearing for a moment.

"What?"

The determined gaze became one of slight wariness tinged with a hint of self-mockery, as if disbelieving that he was here asking, _begging_, for help from one Phoenix Wright. "Teach me."

Mouth feeling dry, the pianist stood up from his instrument and carefully made his way over, closing the gap between them, making sure to leave enough personal room between the two of them so that Edgeworth could move away if he wished. His blue eyes were soft and understanding as he met the other man's.

Grey eyes looked away, seemingly ashamed. "I… I went back home. My father… I realized…"

Edgeworth paused his stuttering sentences, an annoyed look crossing his features before he took a breath and composed himself. "You were correct, Wright." His voice was cool and impersonal once more. "My music is truly nothing compared to my father's."

Phoenix reached out a hand, tipping Edgeworth's face upwards so they were looking eye to eye once more. A small but genuine smile lurked on the corner of his lips. "You came to me." There was a world of meaning within that one sentence.

An almost answering smile echoed itself on Edgeworth's features, softening his features and making his face look years younger. "Because you never change."

Phoenix gave him a startled look as he drew back a little.

Edgeworth's smile tilted into something resembling a smirk. "I was wrong. You never did change, Phoenix."

A perplexed blink was the only expression black-haired pianist managed to convey before _Edgeworth_ pulled him closer and their lips brushed against each other's lightly for the second time.

As he leaned in, deepening the kiss and having the response he so craved, Phoenix reeled from both the implications of Edgeworth's actions as well as his words.

When they finally separated for air, both of them panting and Edgeworth flushed, Phoenix smiled and boldly traced the other man's lips with one finger. "We'll learn together."

Edgeworth moved back a couple of steps, but not in escape this time. He retrieved his instrument and propped it on the piano chair, unclasping the silver buckles.

The smile that tipped the violinist's mouth was genuine and rare as he picked up his violin and poised his bow over it. "Play with me Phoenix."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This was written so long ago (back in late 2007 or early 2008) for a prompt on the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme:

_You know how Nick became a lawyer so he could see Edgey again? Well, I want that still, but... different._

_I want Nick to pursue him through _music_. Preferably classical, Nick working his way through being a back violin, cello, trumpet, whatever, to become the First, in some prestigious orchestra, to get the attention of the conductor, who happens to be a long lost friend that inspired him into music. Or Edgey could be another First, something along those lines. And how, together, they make a harmonic connection that everyone can hear._

And thus, this was born. I had forgotten all about this until someone on LJ reminded me about it. Thank you! Especially for reminding me that these two are still one of my OTPs.

The piece is still largely unbeta'd. I've only gone through to add a bit of punctuation so there are probably a few glaring errors as well as awkward writing. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed.

Please leave a review if you feel so inclined.


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